Walking in late Spring

Walking in late spring,

Why do I feel as if,

I have reached the autumn of my time?

Is it the burden of my emotions?

Or impending coldness of my days?

I wonder often, what could be my crime

There is no respite –

There is always so much darkness

Even with the burning sun at noon.

With these eclipsed eyes I fear

My summer will be covered

By the snows of winter soon

But I walk on hoping,

That someday, if not by will,

Then just by chance, I will stray

And discover the sun,

Even if it be in dying dusk,

Smiling on my twilight way…